Wednesday, November 19, 2014

All About That Bass (for the Lord)

I got paid to attend an evangelical rock concert.

This was about a year ago, and it would take way too long to explain thy why's and wherefore's of how my professional career landed me in this situation. These weren't your usual evangelicals with guitars. These were Bikers In Recovery For Christ. Which, y'know, awesome. They were very talented musicians and singers, and you haven't lived until you've heard Biblical messages reworked into a Jimi Hendrix song at full concert volume.

My latent Catholicism found the whole thing blasphemous, but I didn't have any theses with me that I could nail to their door. It was fun and I didn't even mind all the Jesus I had to wash off later.

The interesting thing about this event was walking into the venue and having all of my senses zero in on the groups' singer and my full and absolute certainty that this woman was a witch.

She had fabulously long, white hair, She was dressed in what can only be called Rich Hippie Chic. She looked like she was the speaker of honor at a *good* Pagan convention in a nice hotel with an open bar and a jacuzzi en suite in every room. But it wasn't her fashion choices that alerted me. There was something *there* there. That eyes across the room/pheromone/spidey senses thing you experience with future lovers, fellow gays, or other witches.

Now, my rational brain cannot make sense of a witch in an evangelical rock band proselytizing for Christ with reworked Hendrix. Although, that would make a great plot for a Bast novel and if Rosemary Edghill sees this she can totes steal that idea.

Maybe she was a former witch whose conversion hadn't quite taken? Maybe she was using her wicked awesome fashion sense, Grace Slick voice and mean tambourine skills as some nefarious plot to infiltrate the Patriarchy and smash it with music? Maybe I should have eaten lunch that day because I'm not really me when I'm hungry?

Who knows.

There was a meet and greet/hand shake/thank you for coming thing at the end. Very nice people. Lots of hugging. And like linking hands with someone in circle, there *it* was.  Had I not been at work, I might have worked up the gumption to ask this nice lady about what she was up to.

That didn't happen, and I'll never know.

The idea of a fabulously dressed witch infiltrating evangelical Christianity with rock music and beads REALLY makes all seven of my feelings happy.

I'm going to stick with that answer.










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